Chapter 34 #2
Angel went to get it and soon returned with Ana, Deacon’s stunning ex-wife.
At five-foot-nine, she sashayed in like the ex-model she was, with effortless elegance in golden high heels suited to a Paris runway.
Her face was exquisite, and her brunette hair fell in waves past her shoulders.
She wore a soft grey midi dress that draped over her perfect frame.
Alongside her was a suave man in his fifties dressed in head-to-toe Italian designer threads.
Massimo was a famous Italian actor who grinned at us with an energy that was too suave and oily.
Deacon, Jude, Sofia and I got up to greet them.
I noticed Jude’s eyes harden and go cold as he raised his chin at Ana and her man.
Deacon’s face, when his eyes fell on Ana and Massimo, was tight and strangely intimidating.
‘Welcome,’ I told the pair with a smile.
Massimo gave Sofia and me dramatic kisses on the hand, winking up at us.
‘Sorry to disturb you,’ Ana said in a husky alto. ‘I just had to drop Raff’s things.’
I exchanged a smile with her. ‘All good.’
Massimo’s eyes locked onto the boy sitting near the bassinet.
‘You forgot your braces kit again, figlio,’ Massimo growled, none too pleased.
Raff rolled his eyes, dropping his chin toward his chest in silent rebellion.
‘Don’t give me that disrespect,’ Massimo snapped in front of everyone with a scowl.
Deacon’s body went rigid, clenching his jaw.
‘Hey, chill, man.’
‘He yells at me at their house, Dad,’ Raff spluttered, his young teen voice cracking with a blend of defiance, fear, and vexation. ‘He’s always on my case.’
‘The hell? This true?’ Deacon bit off, his cadence irate.
He took a step toward Massimo, arching a brow, anger radiating from him.
Angel stepped in, hands raised.
‘Brother, not here, not in front of Raff.’
Deacon simmered down, glaring at his ex-wife and her partner.
‘This is not the end of this discussion.’
Ana pursed her lips, her eyes clouding over, as she pursed her lips, nodding at her ex.
Yet as she glanced away from him, I caught an expression on her face, one of such yearning that I arched a brow.
Those two still had a lot of shit to sort out between them.
Ana’s face shifted into an apologetic expression laced with a tad of embarrassment.
‘Agreed, D.’
She spoke in a soft murmur to bring the temperature down.
‘Let’s chat when you’re back home. Angel, Roxy, Jude, Sofia, so sorry to have disturbed you all.’
Massimo gave us an abrupt chin lift, eyes wary and closed off.
My husband stepped into the gap, took the dental box from Ana’s manicured hands, and handed it to Deacon.
Then he steered the visitors back toward the front door.
After it shut, Deacon reached out a hand to Raff, wrapped him in a hug, and took him to bed.
‘I’ve never met Ana,’ I confessed when they were out of earshot.
Jude and Angel exchanged glances.
‘She’s something else,’ Jude growled. ‘All you need to know is that she gutted Deke’s heart when she left him for the Italian Stallion. Soon after they lost their baby, too. Took Deke years to recover too after she fucked with his heart and mind.’
‘Oh my,’ I murmured, my head spinning at the revelation.
Angel huffed. ‘We don’t have the full story, but every time she comes around Deke, it sets him off. Hell, they set each other off.’
Sofia and I locked gazes, and I sensed she saw what I had.
Ana De Stella was hurting, and it wasn’t for the Italian man by her side.
When Deacon returned to the terrace half an hour later, he collapsed into a wicker chair, staring at the shadowed horizon.
‘Am I right in saying he has no disciplinary authority over my son?’ he muttered, his timbre raw. ‘I get it’s a touchy subject, but when Raff says he’s scared, I want to tear that man apart.’
‘Take time to cool down, mate,’ Angel rasped, sliding a glass of amber whiskey across the wood to his mate. ‘Assess the situation, then have a rational conversation with Ana and Massimo.’
Jude nodded. ‘Agreed. Everyone needs to be on the same page before you talk to Raff again.’
‘Massimo drives me up the fuckin’ wall, though,’ Deacon bit out, staring down at his glass, his eyes stormy with churning emotion. ‘I can’t stand seeing her with him.’
The rest of us exchanged glances across the table.
‘You still care for her?’ I murmured.
Deacon let out a bitter, dry laugh.
‘My heart was hers, but she walked away from us years ago, and living with that agony ruins me daily.’
‘We can’t imagine what you’ve been through, Deacon,’ Sofia murmured.
He scoffed with churlishness.
‘I want to be shot of her. I’m done with feeling this fucked up every time I see her. Need some air.’
Deacon’s eyes flamed with dark, roiling emotion as he tossed the liquor down his throat, then stood and strode out to the garden, ending the conversation.
I tracked his departure, then locked eyes with Angel, whose gaze held a lingering sadness for his mate.
Glancing at the skies above, I sent a little prayer, hoping Deacon would one day find his peace and happiness, as we had.
A day later, Levi, Reign, and Bishop swarmed the villa for a wild forty-eight hours on their way to a musical residency in Ibiza.
Mason, the band’s manager, and his wife, Nari, also joined the chaos.
We gave the outdoor kitchen a massive workout with a giant cookout, where we all pitched in.
The resulting feast filled the long timber table.
We piled platters high with grilled rosemary steaks, wood-fired bread rubbed with olive oil, plus charred zucchini ribbons, and roasted corn.
Nari mixed a sparkling blackberry basil lemonade for me.
Levi and Deacon poured stiff shots of Dark ‘n Stormy, a delicious cocktail of dark rum, ginger beer, and lime over crushed ice, for everyone else.
When the main course was over, the six band members picked up their instruments to play the rest of us an impromptu acoustic concert on the raised wooden performance stage next to the bar.
Mila, however, was the star of the day, with the baby getting passed around for cuddles.
Reign cradled her against his vest, making ridiculous faces at her until she blew a massive drool bubble onto his shirt.
He handed her off to Levi as we all laughed.
Most of the evening, she sat on Angel’s lap, from where she observed the chaotic scene with pure contentment.
Her father fed her a warm bottle, spoiling her with endless forehead kisses and snuggles.
I leaned back in my chair, my hand on Angel’s knee.
‘Look at the state of our killer guitarist,’ Reign mocked, pointing a fork at Angel’s chest. ‘The man who tears down stadium stages is in ecstasy, burping a four-month-old princess.’
‘Shut your face, Reign,’ Angel growled, though a smirk broke through his rugged facade as he patted Mila’s back to burp her. ‘You’re still pissed off she got one on you; hell, she out-rocks all of you losers combined.’
‘He’s so whipped,’ Levi agreed, chuckling as he took a sip of his rum. ‘I saw him testing the milk temperature on his wrist earlier like a certified pro.’
Angel’s voice fell into a rough, unapologetic rumble as he placed the sleepy bubba into her bassinet.
‘Damn straight, and I’ll drop down anyone who wakes her up from her nap.’
He was a rock icon to the world, but here he was just a doting, besotted dad.
I loved the juxtaposition.
A badass, yet a marshmallow softie who’d give his life in a second to protect our little girl.
In the final week of August, the Forrest family descended upon us.
Angel’s sisters, Marnie and Clair, took time off work for the summer to soak up the Italian sun.
His mum, Amelia, joined them, free on her summer break from her professorship at Vanderbilt.
She brought along his father, Drew.
As soon as she arrived, the landscaper in him got out of the shuttle and immediately inspected Mrs. Campanelli’s lemon trees.
A day later, at the sprawling breakfast table overlooking the sea, the family huddled over my daughter’s bassinet as she blew raspberries up at them.
‘Look at those tiny toes,’ Angel’s mum cooed, leaning down to let Mila grip her pinky finger. ‘She has the Forrest jawline, Roxy. There’s no denying that stubborn chin.’
‘She better not inherit his temperamental spirit,’ Marnie teased, winking at her brother. ‘One in the family is plenty.’
‘Hey, I’m a changed man,’ Angel rasped, lifting his coffee mug in salute. ‘I’m a peaceful soul now. Ask my wife.’
‘He’s an angel,’ I laughed, as I leaned over to kiss his sculpted jaw.
My heart welled with joy as my new family bickered and laughed under the Italian sun.
This second honeymoon wasn’t just a vacation.
It was the blueprint for happiness for the rest of our lives.